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Blue Behind the Glass
Clara was on a stool in the shop window, a pin in her mouth, when Denis came in from the street with his phone up. A photographer was coming. The poster on the screen was red, and the cloth under the scarves was blue. Clara wanted those scarves left alone. She had spent the morning setting each fold, and if she pulled them down now the folds would fall out before the shop opened.
Denis did not say hello. He held the phone higher, as if the poster could argue for him.
"The window has to match that," he said. "Blue will look like a different shop."
Clara took the pin out of her mouth. The iron in the back room was cold. She knew that without going to check. There was no time to press the scarves again and still open the door for customers.